The Regent's Daughter

The reconciliation

‘THIS IS THE saddest and most desolate time of my life,’ said Charlotte to Louisa Lewis, one of the few who had been left to her, presumably because she was too insignificant to be considered of any importance.

‘It’ll pass,’ Louisa comforted her.

So it might, but she would never be quite the same again. She could not forget that her mother did not want her, that all those protestations of affection in the past had meant little. Hadn’t Charlotte always known that she preferred Willie Austin? More important than Charlotte’s welfare was her desire to leave the country.

‘She will stay there, I suppose,’ she mused. ‘I have a feeling that I shall never see her again.’

Louisa tried to interest her in a new dress. As if she could be interested in dresses now! She had defied her father to go to her mother because she had wanted him to know that someone loved her if he did not; and she had been shown so clearly that her mother did not care that she was lonely and desolate and desperately in need of her.

‘So here I am, a prisoner,’ she said.

Her great comfort was in thinking of Queen Elizabeth who had been a prisoner so many times. Why, she comforted herself, look what humiliations she had to suffer! Yet she became a great queen. So shall it be with Charlotte.

It could not last. Every month that passed was a month behind her. She must endure this imprisonment in Cranbourne Lodge because it could not last.

She had not seen him since he came to Warwick House on that fateful night. His carriage had taken her back to Carlton House where she had stayed for a few days before the journey with her band of old ladies.

‘Ugh!’ she said aloud, considering them. Lady Ilchester! Well, give her her due. She tried to be pleasant. As for Lady Rosslyn, she could not endure her. She was so thin that you imagined you could hear her bones rattling. ‘Old Famine’, Charlotte secretly called her. And then Mrs Campbell who had been in her household long ago. She had liked her well enough then, but the fact was she deplored the change and was not prepared to like any of them now.

She thought often of her father who at least had cared enough to make rules for her and to be shocked by her behaviour. Her mother had laughed with her, consoled her, comforted her and deserted her.

It was fortunate perhaps that she felt too listless to care. Her head ached and there was this persistent pain in her knee. She was content to spend long hours in her room reading. She liked reading about great queens of the past, Elizabeth naturally being her favourite of them all; she imagined her imprisoned in the Tower in fear of her life. At least, she thought, they can’t kill me. And when she came to the throne she hoped she would be as great as Elizabeth. She dreamed of herself being crowned in the Abbey. ‘Long live the Queen!’ She could hear the echoes of peers’ voices. To achieve greatness one must reckon to suffer first.

She would endure it – all the petty humiliations. She was not even allowed to have a bedroom to herself for it was her father’s order that one of her laides should sleep in her room. She had insisted that the woman sleep in the next room with the communicating door open and this wish had been granted her. She wondered whether her father had had a debate with his ministers over the matter, and she laughed, which showed she was no longer so miserable.

Every letter she wrote must be censored by Lady Ilchester or by Old Famine; every letter which arrived for her was first read by them. How could she receive the letters which might be coming to Cornelia from F? And Cornelia herself was completely cut off from her.

It’ll pass, she told herself, every week that goes by is a step towards something better.

Her optimism was rewarded when one day Lady Ilchester told her that she had a visitor who came to see her with the Regent’s permission.

She could not believe her eyes when the door opened.

‘Mercer!’ she cried.

‘Yes, I am here,’ said Mercer. ‘His Highness thinks that my friendship does you no harm.’

Charlotte began to laugh and hug Mercer at the same time and so fiercely did she laugh that she was almost in tears.

Mercer was shocked by Charlotte’s appearance and decided that she would find some means of letting the Regent know that this treatment was harming his daughter’s health. But the very sight of her beloved friend brought a sparkle into Charlotte’s eyes.

Mercer set out to cheer her with the news. The Regent had given a wonderful fête at Carlton House in honour of Wellington and there had been two thousand five hundred people there. The dresses! The costumes! Mercer described them in detail. People had lined the Mall to see the carriage pass along and there had been no dissenting cries at all. Everyone had been delighted with the celebrations.

‘Your father has such original ideas,’ said Mercer, and Charlotte nodded proudly.

‘A pity you couldn’t have seen the Jubilee in the parks. You know how fascinated your father is with everything oriental. Well, a Chinese bridge was put over the canal in St James’s Park and a pagoda was built on it. This was for the firework displays and alas, it was burned down during one of them. A temple was put up in Green Park, and a battle was staged on the Serpentine which was supposed to be a sea fight between the English and Americans. Guess who won.’

‘The English,’ giggled Charlotte.

‘Right first time. Then of course there was the balloon ascent. The Regent is determined that no one shall forget this is victory year. There’s a fair in Hyde Park which has been going on for weeks.’

‘Oh, Mercer, it’s wonderful to see you. It’s like being alive again.’

‘His Highness has given his permission for you to go to Connaught House to say goodbye to Her Highness the Princess of Wales before she leaves on her travels.’

Lady Ilchester was smiling for she thought the news would please Charlotte. She really tried very hard to make life more bearable and Charlotte reproached herself for disliking her. But it was not really Lady Ilchester whom she disliked; it was the fact that she had been appointed jailer under the odious name of governess.

‘Thank you,’ said Charlotte. ‘When am I to be released?’

Lady Ilchester did not look shocked as she would have done a short time ago. They had all grown accustomed to Charlotte’s frankness.

‘We can go tomorrow if you so wish.’

‘Very well,’ said Charlotte. ‘Tomorrow let it be.’

So she would see her mother for the first time since that night when she had realized that she was of no great importance to her. She was not quite sure what her feelings would be. All the same it was pleasant to leave Cranbourne Lodge, like leaving prison and coming out into the world again.

No one recognized her carriage, for which she was pleased. She did wonder how the people would act, for they would have heard some version – probably garbled – of that night’s adventure. They would be on her side, she knew that, because they hated her father so much; and she did not want them to take sides against her.

The Princess Caroline was in a state of great excitement. Her voluminous velvet gown was almost slipping off her shoulders, her voice shrill with excitement.

‘My precious Charlotte!’ she screamed. ‘So he has allowed you to come and say goodbye to your mother.’

The embrace was suffocating and Charlotte wanted to escape from it.

‘So you are going on your odyssey, Mamma,’ she said.

‘Far away from this country and glad of it … except of course for leaving my darling daughter.’

‘You will have Willie to console you,’ said Charlotte with a touch of asperity.

‘Dear Willie, deprived of my Charlotte as I am, he is a great solace. The Jason will soon be sailing. Imagine it. I always wanted to see the world. Oh, Charlotte, you would be surprised if you could hear my plans.’

‘Nothing you did would surprise me, Mamma,’ said Charlotte.

‘How solemn you are, dearest!’

‘Is it not a solemn occasion?’

‘Why, of course it is, and a sad one, for we are to be parted.’

She looks anything but sad, thought Charlotte.

She was glad when the final goodbyes had been said and she was on the way to Cranbourne Lodge. She was seeing her mother through her father’s eyes. A vulgar, unstable woman, one on whom a daughter could place no reliance.

Mercer had intimated to the Regent, with the assistance of Sir Henry Halford, that the Princess Charlotte’s health was not as good as it should be. Her knee was troubling her, she suffered from mysterious pains, and her low spirits did not help to improve her condition. Sir Henry thought that sea air had always been beneficial to the Princess and that a few weeks at Weymouth before the summer was over would be of great benefit.

The Regent declared that his daughter should go to Weymouth.

Charlotte was delighted with the news, which Mercer came to impart to her. Mercer thought this might be a good time to tell her that there had been no communication from F in case she had been thinking that Cornelia had been unable to smuggle his letters to her.

‘I think,’ said the practical Mercer, ‘that you should consider that affair over.’

Charlotte was desolate. Was she to be deserted by her lover as well as her mother?

‘You know,’ said Mercer, ‘it was really never serious. Could you imagine a match being arranged between you?’

‘Why not? He was a prince.’

‘I don’t think he would have had the approval of your father or the Parliament.’

‘They are obsessed by Orange.’

‘Hush,’ warned Mercer. ‘Don’t mention him. Let us forget there was ever an Orange. Now, you must be looking forward to the sea breezes.’

She was, but she felt sad. Why was it that everything went wrong? Even F could not remain faithful – for she was sure he was not. And Leopold had not had the courage to remain.

It was time she stopped thinking of Leopold; and it would be good to be free again, because she was always more so at the sea. They could not keep her imprisoned there when she was going for the sole enjoyment of the fresh air.

She had Mercer; she was going to Weymouth; life was improving a little.

What pleasure to arrive at beautiful Weymouth. The people knew she was coming and were waiting to welcome her as though she were already their Sovereign. When she reached Gloucester Lodge she saw them all gathered on the esplanade and they kept shouting ‘Long Live Princess Charlotte’ and ‘God Bless her’ and lots of other comforting words.

How different from being incarcerated in Cranbourne Lodge!

She felt better already.

The Mayor and his Aldermen called on her and delivered a long loyal address – boring but comforting. She felt like Queen Elizabeth receiving them.

Every morning she rode out into the fresh and beautiful country, whipping up her horse, escaping when she could from her attendants. How she loved the hills and valleys but most of all the sea. Often she drove into the village of Upway – one of her favourite spots.

‘Hallelujah!’ she would cry to whoever was with her. ‘This is different from Windsor.’ She was better already.

Her great pleasure was to meet the people. She would stop her carriage and have a word or two with old men and women, and children above all delighted her; she loved their quaint sayings and their absence of awe because they did not know they were speaking to one who might one day be their Queen.

On one occasion she went across to Portland Island. How she enjoyed being on the sea! She climbed the rock and stood at a high point looking back at the mainland.

‘How beautiful it is!’ And that was England … her England … the England of which she would be Queen. Why had she thought that life was dreary when she was to be the Queen of this beautiful country?

‘Take care, Your Highness. You are too near the edge,’ said Lady Ilchester.

‘I hope everyone standing on the brink of destruction will be able to retrace their steps as easily as I can,’ she said with a laugh.

Oh, yes, she felt alive again.

The Countess of Ilchester suggested that she might care to visit Abbotsbury Castle where her mother-in-law, the Dowager Countess, would be delighted to receive her. Charlotte said she would be pleased to visit the Ilchesters’ ancestral home and accordingly she and her party set out for the castle.

The Dowager Countess received her as though she were already Queen and after that nothing would satisfy her but to visit Lulworth Castle which was the home of Thomas Weld. Lulworth particularly delighted her when she learned that Mrs Fitzherbert had been married to a Mr Weld, the previous owner of the castle, and that she had actually been the châtelaine for the short duration of her marriage.

‘How I should like to see Mrs Fitzherbert again!’ sighed Charlotte.

And after Lulworth the magnificent ruins of Corfe Castle.

These trips, the fresh air, her pleasure in the beautiful county of Dorset greatly restored the Princess’s spirits and with them, her health.

There was no doubt that the visit to Weymouth had been an unqualified success, and with the coming of November, with its mists and cold winds, it was decided that the time had come for her to return to Cranbourne Lodge.

Shortly after her return to Cranbourne the Regent came to see her.

When she knew that he was in the house she was thrown into a flutter of excitement; she tried to calm herself; she prayed for courage. She was terrified that he would express his disappointment in her.

She found him looking younger than he had looked for some years. It was due to a nut-brown wig, discreetly curled and unpowdered. His face looked less ruddy beneath it and this gave him a look of better health. His dazzling white neckcloth took care of his chins, and not having seen him for so long she had forgotten how beautifully his clothes seemed to have been moulded on to his body; and his buckskin breeches fitted so neatly that they too seemed like part of him; his calves really were magnificent and surely the diamond star on his dark-blue coat glittered more brilliantly than ever.

She lifted her eyes to his almost appealingly and was immediately taken into his scented embrace.

‘My dear Charlotte, I rejoice to see you in such healthy looks.’

‘Why, Papa … you … you look more handsome than ever.’

She had spoken spontaneously and for once she had chosen the right words.

He laughed. ‘I hear the Weymouth expedition was a great success. I am glad. You are like me. We do appreciate the sea air. You must come and inspect my new improvements at the Pavilion. You will see changes.’

So they were not going to refer to what he had called her ‘elopement’; that was done with; they were going on from there. A sense of wild happiness seized her. Perhaps now everything was going to be different.

He took her arm and they walked around the room. He liked sauntering about rooms, although Cranbourne Lodge could not offer him the pleasure he derived from the Pavilion and Carlton House.

She would soon be of age, he said, and they must be seen more together. For the moment she must stay at Windsor but he had plans for her … plans. The year had been one of the most glorious in English history. He wanted everyone to realize this. That was why all honour must be paid to the great Wellington. They were fighting a sea war, as she no doubt knew, with America and this was something which grieved him, for here were Englishmen fighting against Englishmen. Very different, she would understand, from fighting that fellow Napoleon. But he had great hopes that in a few weeks she would hear that peace had been declared between the English and Americans; and she would be as delighted as he was.

She listened nodding, agreeing because she was happy to walk with him thus, up and down, to the windows looking out, through to the next room and back again, and all the time his arm through hers, as though he were interested in talking to her.

He had never been quite like this before.

‘It is a relief to me,’ he said at length, ‘that your mother is out of the country. You must understand these matters now. You are no longer a child, Charlotte. We must be watchful of that boy of hers. While I am alive no harm can be done, but I sometimes think of what will happen to you, my dear, after my death.’

‘Oh, Papa,’ she said quickly, ‘do not speak of it.’

He pressed her hand and took out his handkerchief to wipe a tear which was not there. But again she had pleased him – and without guile too.

‘Alas,’ he said, ‘we must speak of unhappy things sometimes. I shall not be content – and I think of you, my daughter – until I have proved to the world the immorality of that woman. Perhaps you understand now, my child, why I have acted as I have in the past.’

‘Oh, Papa, dearest Papa!’

It was wonderful. They were in accord. He loved her after all. But she knew in her heart, of course, that he was only acting the part of devoted parent. But it served … for the moment. He cared enough to act for her as he had acted for others in the past.

She was weeping and as he never could resist giving an example of how that affecting habit could be best performed, he wept with her.

It was forgiveness. They were no longer enemies.

Life at Cranbourne Lodge changed. It was not now necessary for her to be continually watched; no longer need one of her women sleep in the next room with the door open; she could receive and write letters that were not submitted to rigid censorship.

She was in favour with her father.

Mercer came to see her, and they talked of Hesse, who had not returned her letters.

‘Mercer, what can I do?’

‘We did tell him that if he did not return the letters you would make a full confession to your father. Perhaps that is what you should do.’

Charlotte turned pale.

‘My dear Charlotte,’ said Mercer, ‘he has been in a similar scrape himself and now that he is trying to cultivate your affection is the time to confess.’

Charlotte thought about it. She was fully aware that something would have to be done about the Hesse affair; and she was beginning to wish she had not written such impassioned letters to F. How foolish she had been in the past. She was already beginning to forget F, for quite clearly he had not been serious. It seems very difficult, she thought, for a princess to find people who really love her.

One day during one of her father’s visits he mentioned the name of Hesse and before she realized it she had started to confess.

‘Papa, I have something to tell you. I need your help.’

He smiled warmly. He liked the new relationship with his daughter. It had all come about because that dreadful woman was no longer in England. He wanted Charlotte to understand this and he was constantly mentioning some vulgarity of Caroline’s; and Charlotte had lost that irritating habit of rushing to her defence.

‘Proceed,’ he said. ‘My help is yours as you know before you begin.’

So it was easy to tell him and she described it all: the first meeting with Hesse; her loneliness; his charm; and how Lady de Clifford had scolded her for being as she said too free with him; and how her mother had overheard the scolding and reprimanded Lady de Clifford. If her daughter wished for friendship with a handsome young man she should have it, said Caroline.

‘And Papa, she used to arrange that he should be there when I called; and she helped us to exchange letters.’

The Prince’s expression was grave. ‘My poor, poor child,’ he said, ‘in the hands of such a monster!’

Realizing how much easier it was to confess than she had dared hope, she told him of the occasion when her mother had locked them in the bedroom.

He covered his eyes with his hand.

Then he turned and embraced her. ‘My poor, poor child, what can I say? I did not think even she could be capable of such conduct.’

‘But I do not wish you to be angry with Captain Hesse, Father. He always treated me with the greatest respect, but God knows what would have happened to me if he had not.’

‘My dear child, it is Providence alone that has saved you.’

He then went on to talk about her mother – her eccentricities, her madness, her unsuitability to be the Princess of Wales.

‘Can you wonder, my child, that she revolts me?’

And Charlotte could say with sincerity: ‘No, Papa, I cannot.’

‘She is the most vulgar woman it has ever been my misfortune to meet … and think of my fate, child! They married her to me!’

‘Oh, my dearest Papa.’

So he embraced her. She was his child now. She agreed with him. She would learn to hate her mother as he did; and that was what he wanted.

In a way, she thought, it is the price he asks for his love.

But the Hesse affair could be settled now. An intimation from the Prince Regent’s secretary that he expected the return of his daughter’s letters brought an alarmed reply from the Captain that he had no such letters, that he had destroyed at the time of receiving them all those which were not already returned. He was informed that the Duke of York’s favour would be withdrawn from him if there was ever a hint of trouble on this score.

‘So the Hesse letters,’ said Mercer, who managed to get all such information through her various friends in high places, ‘need worry us no more. He couldn’t return what he hadn’t got and didn’t want to admit that he had destroyed them at the time of receiving them, which was not a very lover-like action.’

‘I begin to believe that men are not the romantic sex,’ said Charlotte, and she was thinking of Leopold.

Even the Queen’s manner had changed towards Charlotte now; she no longer treated her as a child but gave her a kind of sour and reluctant affection. The Old Girls were positively gushing; and it was quite clear that the period of penance was over.

The Regent told Charlotte that in view of the Hesse affair he thought it was time she was married and he wondered whether she would think again about Orange.

‘Papa,’ she said, ‘I would do anything you ask of me except marry Orange. That is something which I can never do. Pray do not press me.’

And he had the grace to be silent.

Then everything else was forgotten for Napoleon had escaped from Elba. News came that he had reached the Tuileries, that thousands of men were rallying to him with cries of ‘Vive I’ Empereur’, that Louis XVIII had left Paris and set up his court in Ghent, and the war was about to start again.

The Regent could think of nothing else. He had long conferences with Wellington. Excitement was in the air. Had last year’s celebrations been premature?

Then came the famous battle of Waterloo and the defeat of Napoleon who flattered the Regent by an appeal to him: ‘I ask for the hospitality of the British nation,’ he wrote. ‘I place myself under the protection of their laws which I claim from Your Royal Highness as the most powerful, the most constant and the most generous of my enemies.’

The Regent ignored the appeal and Napoleon was exiled to St Helena.

There was rejoicing throughout the country and the Regent believed, as he did at such times, that the people did not hate him quite so much as they had before.